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Claimed	By : thegamejunkie Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 1494 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine. and I'm not making any money writing this. Not my boys, unfortunately. Only the story below is mine.

Chapter List
- 1-Claimed
- 1
It's kind of retarded to think that you could honestly be claimed at the tender age of eleven. And I mean honest-to-frickin-God-or-whoever claimed, y'know? But it seemed, and this would be proved a lot in the future, that Mello had a knack for making the unlikely happen.

Ergo, on the brink of a mere eleven years old, the temperamental blond made his claim on me with a look, and the simple gesture of grabbing my wrist with a slender, but strong, hand. His eyes, this odd shade of gray-blue, were intent, slightly narrowed, and completely serious despite the smirk curved on his lips. My own eyes flickered between his, and his grip on my wrist, preventing me from continuing on with playing the hand-held clutched in my hands.

"Can I help you?" I finally managed to ask, when Mello himself said nothing. Even if I'd only been here for a couple weeks, it wasn't like I didn't know who he was. I did. It was jut that it was a little more than unnerving to have your roommate (and the asshole kind that ignored you but in the way that he wasn't really ignoring you and would have made everything awkward if I weren't good at ignoring uncomfortable situations) giving you that kind of look. Instinctively, I pulled at my wrist, as if to free it from his grip, feeling oddly nervous under his gaze.

"Matt, right?" But the way he said it kinda made it sound like he didn't really need any conformation. Even so, I nodded my head, mainly just so I could look away from those icy eyes. I kept my head low for as long as I could, before his voice urged me to look up again. "You're my new partner,"

That was it too. No joke. He just said that, and his smirk seemed to become more...smirk-y, and his eyes were still so serious. I wasn't stupid by any means, but what the heck did he even mean? Like a friend? As far as I'd been able to tell, Mello didn't actually have any friends, but it didn't exactly bother him either. In fact, I think he was kinda pleased by the fact that the other kids were a bit more than intimidated by him.

Looking at him now though, even as his grip tightened further and his eyes surveyed me coldly, I didn't really feel intimidated. Or scared or whatever else I was probably supposed to feel like. Honestly, as the whole situation set in, I was more surprised than anything. Mainly over the fact that Mello would choose me, over all the kids here. We'd hardly spoken a word to each other, and he'd never really done anything to suggest he liked me.

Maybe I should have been creeped out...

Only I wasn't that either. Even the surprise was giving away to a sort of intrigue, and I'm pretty sure that was what fueled me to give a shrug of my shoulders and another nod of my head. "Uhm...okay." I consented. Not that his words had really left any room for a choice, but I wanted to feel a little less pathetic, okay?

Didn't seem to bother him. If anything, his smirk got bigger, satisfaction worming its way into the expression. Though, behind the smirk he seemed a little surprised. Probably cause I'd given no protest. Guess he'd expected a bit more..."Good, you're acquiescent. I like that." He finally released my wrist, but instead of leaving me at peace to my game, his own hand went to the collar of my shirt. Before I could even think to protest, he tugged me up into a standing position. Jeez...he was a lot stronger then he looked. Scrawny as I was, he shouldn't have been able to do that.

Still, I felt more intrigued/surprised than intimidated. I think it has something to do with the fact that Mello isn't exactly scary to look at. He's skinny too, only in a more slender way. And he's got a sorta girly hair cut, and he wasn't really that much taller than me. If there was anything scary about him, it was those eyes. Even those, though, held a sort of charm about them upon closer inspection.

Had to wonder how many people actually got that closer inspection.

...Or how many people would have been bothered by how close our faces were. I hadn't really realized until he'd decided to speak again, warm, chocolate-scented breath coating over my face. "We're going outside," Again it wasn't exactly a question, but more of an order. And, despite my loathing of the outdoors, it was one I was oddly willing to comply with.

Another 'okay' and I found myself trailing behind my new blond...friend like some perfectly obedient puppy.

When I was nearly fifteen, I realized for the first time just how much I depended on that short leash he kept me on.

We had been told about L's death a few hours previously. Mello had disappeared just after passing on the news to me, leaving me to worry endlessly until he returned. If I didn't know him as well as I did (and fuck if I didn't know him as well as I knew each and every one of my video-games), he would have looked completely normal. His lips curled into their usual scowl, hand clutching at his usual bar of chocolate, aura giving off its usual 'come-near-me-and-I'll-knock-your-lights-out' vibe. Mello looked down-right normal.

However, he was not. Not even close. If you looked close enough, you could see his eyes were still faintly red-rimmed from crying. His hair was just faintly mussed up, probably 'cause he'd tried to fix it up after realizing he'd messed it up clutching at it as he always did when he was frustrated. It was only natural for me to notice these things, and pretend like I hadn't to preserve his ego while still trying to comfort him.

So I paused my game (yeah, yeah. It does actually happen sometimes. For Mello anyway.) and made my way to where he stood. For just a second, I lingered, trying to read his expression through his eyes. Didn't work as well as I planned, but it didn't bother me too much. It wasn't much of a surprise anyway. I'd learned by now that either Mello had too many emotions going on at once to understand or he'd just done this weird trick of his where his eyes looked like someone had injected liquid nitrogen into his irises or something.

Right now he was doing the liquid nitrogen thing, and it still chilled even me. Even so, I slipped my arms around his neck and pulled him close against me as I'd done only a handful of times before. Each time it seemed to work, if only for a bit, before he'd shove me off and make some comment about what a sap I was and that he was going to rub off on me and then where would we be? But he never failed to give me that rare smile of his, though it usually only lasted, like, a second until it faded and he went back to his studies or had me go get him more chocolate or something else Mello-like.

This time, though, he shoved me off the moment our chests met. Not only that, but he shoved me hard. Harder than I was used to anyway. Enough to draw a yelp of surprise out of me as my butt hit the ground, blinking up at him behind the protection of the orange plastic of my goggles. I knew Mello wasn't exactly the sweetest guy in the world, but I couldn't help but feel a bit, well, hurt. And that wasn't something I wanted to deal with 'cause I wasn't really used to it. The only thing I could do was shrug it off, and pick up my GameBoy from where I'd left it on the bed, making a sort of scoffing noise.

"Jesus, Mels. If ya don't want to be touched, you coulda just said so. There was no need for my poor butt to take the blow."

He growled something I couldn't understand. Or he might have just growled in general. Couldn't really tell when it came to him. His hand came in contact with the back of my head roughly as he walked past, prompting me to look up from my game again to see where he was heading, considering his bed was on the other side of the room from where he was walking.

"If you weren't such a fag, your ass wouldn't have to take any blows." Mello finally muttered, belatedly. He was digging through the dresser, tossing clothes into a bag I hadn't seen in his hands before. Chocolate followed the clothing, and before I knew it he was zipping up the bag, all without looking at me again.

Ignoring his comment entirely (it would be too late to respond anyway) I got up off my bed and walked over to him for a second time, looking between him and the bag. "Er...Mels. What're you doing?" It was stupid to ask. I knew exactly what he was doing. Which was exactly why I grabbed the bag from him without waiting for an answer, opening the drawers again and starting to shove my own clothes inside.

"Are you kidding me? What the fuck are you doing dumb ass?" His hands caught my wrists in that familiar strong grip, preventing me from putting anything else in the bag. I lifted my head to look at him, finding our faces inches apart, not for the first time. The look in his eyes was still as icy as before. Only there were cracks in the composure. Like cracks in a glacier, letting water spill out. Only it wasn't water spilling out, but emotion. Anger. Desperation. Even sorrow. Amongst many others that I couldn't really pin a name on.

I tugged a bit on his hold on me, attempting to free my hands. He held them tightly though, enough that I knew there would be bruises the following morning. Wouldn't be the first time. Instead of protesting further, I just tilted my head at him in what could have been a questioning fashion. "We're leaving, right? Goin' to do the whole Kira thing. Personally I don't want to wear the same underwear for weeks." His anger seemed to grow with this, but I merely raised a brow at him. I'd never really been scared of Mello no matter how angry he got. Now wasn't really the time to start. I kinda wanted to prove I was good enough to go along with him, and showing I was scared of him wouldn't actually suit that fact. Not that I was scared. For the four years we'd been together, Mello hadn't actually done me any harm like I knew he had other kids.

"Dumb ass. You mean I'm leaving. You're going to keep your sorry ass here like a good boy." Okay, he didn't harm me physically anyway. Some of the things he said sorta hurt. Like that. Especially that really. How could he say that? Think of leaving me behind? Over the years, I'd found myself, like, utterly dependent on Mello. Well...not dependent, but whenever he was away from me for too long, I found I'd developed some separation anxiety.

Pathetic, I know. But painfully true.

But this was worse than just a few hours that Mello wanted to himself. This was, like, for-frickin'-ever. And if L could die, then Mello could do and damn if I was just gonna sit back and let him do it alone! I was his sidekick, wasn't I? His partner as he'd said. That sorta meant I was supposed to stay with him and do sidekick-y stuff like get him his chocolate and take a bullet for him. That kinda thing. How was I supposed to do that if I was here?

Also I was stuck on the thought of a Wammy's without Mello. Which really didn't sound appealing at all.

"You're jokin' me, yeah?" I tugged at my wrists again, and this time he let them go. Though before I could continue packing, he snatched my clothes from the bag and threw them back on the bed. "Mello!" It came out sort of as a whine, and I gathered the clothes again and attempted to shove them back in the bag. It seemed Mello wasn't having that, as he growled again and grabbed me once more, shoving me forcefully back and forcing me to sit on the bed.

"I'm not fucking joking you Matt. You're. Not. Coming. Got it?" He grit out, giving me that look he usually only gave the other kids here. If I didn't know better, I would have cringed. But I did know, so I didn't cringe, and instead jutted my chin out a bit in a small show of defiance.

"No I don't frickin' 'got it'. Mels I don't want to stay. I can't. We're partners, remember?" That seemed to have no effect on Mello other then getting him to roll his eyes. I could feel a pout coming on, but I held it back for now. Really Mello had to be joking, didn't he?

The look in his eyes suggested otherwise. As did the way he grabbed his bag, and slung it over his shoulder, and moved towards our window to open it up...I moved to follow again, but the look he gave me as he looked back caused me to stop. Well...ordered me rather. And being the dog I was, I obeyed, but not without letting the pout loose. "You know I'd do anything," I said in hopes that maybe that would soften him up. Let him let me come.

Apparently my hopes were in vain, as he just looked at me in a flat fashion that kinda reminded me of Near only not 'cause it was Mello. And I don't think Near could have made me feel like the world was crashing down around me.

"Look Matt," He began in a sort of resigned fashion, resting his hand on his hip and clutching at the strap of his bag with the other. "You're gonna stay your sorry ass here, like I said. And when I need you, if I need you, I'll give you a call. Otherwise, you'll just get in my way." His thin shoulders shifted in a shrug, and I didn't get a chance to properly respond before he slipped out the window.

Some two years later I would have been found in some shitty London apartment, sprawled over the couch fast asleep. The months that had passed since the night Mello left had been long ones. Dull. Lifeless even. It wasn't like I went and did the whole 'my-life-has-no-meaning-emoemoemo- crap. Really, I'd like to think I'm above that people.

I just reverted to the state you would have found me in when I'd first entered Wammy's. I didn't talk to anyone without them talking to me first. I spent the majority of my days, and nights, gaming. The only difference was that I'd taken up smoking, finding the addiction a sort of substitute for the lack of another.

And...okay maybe I dabbled a bit in other drugs too once I'd actually left Wammy's myself. But that wasn't the point.

The point was I could just as well go on without Mello as with. It was just...not as great.

So, naturally, I couldn't bring myself to be mad when a phone call from none other than the blond himself interrupted my sleep.

"Matt." It was odd, admittedly. To hear his voice again. Not the bad kinda odd. The kind you felt when you were presented with, like, something you'd adored in your childhood and hadn't thought of in a real long time.

'Cause it wasn't like I thought of Mello's voice every day.

"Heya Mels," I chirped happily, the sound of his voice alone, despite the oddness, seeming to be enough to force all the life back in me. I sat up, already mentally preparing to leave this shithole of a place I'd called home for the past few months, shoving my free hand in my pocket to get to my cigs.

"You're getting on a plane. To Los Angeles. Today, tomorrow. Doesn't matter, just get your sorry ass here a-fuckin'-sap.. I'm going to need a missile and since every other hacker here is shit, I'm gonna need you to help. Got it?" I nodded, seeing as I was mid-drag from my cigarette and still half-asleep it took a second to realize that he wasn't actually there to see me nod.

"Uhm...I just kinda nodded to myself, so take that as an okay, 'kay?" I laughed, caught somewhere in the daze between happiness at knowing I was going to get to see Mello again, going to be needed again, and the fact that I was still kinda struggling to wake up.

"Whatever Matt. Just be here." I didn't get a chance to get in so much as a 'see ya' before he hung up. It didn't bother me so much though, as I found myself far too elated with the fact that I was returning to Mello's side. Eagerly, like a dog to his master when said master ordered him to come. While I propped open my laptop and got myself a couple tickets to L.A, I mused over whether a dog would actually return to his master after so long without seeing him. I could only assume it would, because the master was the master for a reason.

I had to laugh at my own thoughts as I jumped up to begin throwing all my things into the duffel bag I'd left Whammy's with. Silly as they were, it was hard not to see them as true. Even if I blamed the randomness on the elation at the thought of hopping on a plane in only a few short hours in order to get to Mello while humming something an awful lot like the Mario theme song under breath.

At seventeen Mello apparently decided that we were gay.

And when I say 'we', I mean we.

You see, being in your late teens, and a guy, and well...bored, it's perfectly natural to turn to sex. At least, I think it should be. That's what it seemed like to me. So, me being all three of those things decided it was about time I got laid. It wasn't to hard, seeing as the part of LA we lived in seemed to, like, radiate sex.

Only...Mello didn't seem to like the idea. Like, really didn't like it.

That is, if the look in his eyes when I walked in at some god-awful hour was any indication. Of course, I figured it was just because I'd come home empty handed. Usually he expected chocolate out of me, and usually (when I say usually I mean all the time) I brought it. I had a perfectly good explanation for not bringing it tonight, that being the fact that we already had some...and I was too busy being, well, busy.

Ignoring the nasty look he was giving, I gave my own smile and a half wave, heading into the kitchen. I didn't know he had followed until he decided to speak up, causing me to jump and nearly drop the RedBull I'd grabbed from our severely understocked fridge. "Where the fuck have you been, Matty?"

Oh shit. He was dropping the whole 'Matty' thing. Clearly he was pissy about something. I ran over in my head all I'd done today, and all I'd not done, trying to find some flaw in what I was supposed to do. Nothing. I'd done everything Mello had asked and then some. Fully restocked his chocolate stash and all.

I swallowed, looking back at him and forcing my shoulders to shrug. "Uhm...out Mels. Didn't know that was a problem."

His lips twitched slightly at this, pulling into a slight scowl. Otherwise his expression was blank, untainted by emotion. There was the liquid nitrogen again... "This fuckin' late?" I shrugged/nodded, popping the top to my energy drink and taking a long chug, watching him curiously as his expression twitched again. "You reek of shit perfume, Matt."

I nearly choked on the carbonated liquid in my mouth with this, tugging at the collar of my shirt and sniffing. Ugh. I did. But the girl had been awful pretty. Sweet blond from a few floors down. So what if I came home smelling like her admittedly gross perfume? For the third time, I shrugged, returning my attention to my drink and giving only a soft hum in actual acknowledgment.

I made my mistake when I looked at Mello, noting the look in his eyes. The chill hadn't left them, it had just turn that much more chilling. Zelda help me if I were ever to actually survive a look like that. Instinctively I set my drink on the counter, sliding across the kitchen floor (thank god for socks on tile, makes getting around a lot more fun) in order to stop in front of the cabinet that was pretty damn near full of Mello's chocolate. I snatched a bar from the top shelf, hoping that the sweet would chill the trigger-happy blond out a bit.

Only, as I turned I found Mello close again. Maybe too close. And fuck he looked angry. Maybe Because Mello was angry. No, Mello was fuming, seething, I wouldn't be surprised if he started foaming at the mouth. He was...shoving my hips against the counter?

I let out a surprised curse as my lower back hit the edge of our kitchen counter, already straining against the hands that held me back. The chocolate fell to the floor as I used my own hands to push against his wrists, wriggling my hips in an attempt to get away. I didn't stand a chance, caught off guard as I was. Not to mention Mello was on frickin' steroids or something, I could already picture the bruises that I was going to find on my hips the next morning.

"The heck Mello? I didn't even do anything yet! I wasn't going to eat it, I swear! I don't even like chocolate. What the fu- hey geddoff, mmph!" No warning, not even a look or a 'shut up dumb ass'. Out of nowhere Mello's lips were on mine with the same bruising force that seemed to be molding his hands to my hips. I gasped despite myself, tensing up,sudden paralysis no joke. When his tongue actually went into my mouth though, I seemed to gain back use of my limbs, hands resting on his chest now and pushing. Holy frickin' Zelda, but that felt good...

Only with an amazing amount of will power did I manage to pull away. I must have been the incarnate of self-control, because that was insanely difficult. Even so, Mello's lips never left my skin, apparently finding my neck, newly exposed from turning my head away, a suitable target. Before I could do anything about it, he bit down roughly at a spot that sent a jolt of pleasure through me. "M-Mello, cut it out. Go find a, nng, whore or so-something. I'm sure y-you have those, don't you?" Note, its really, really hard to string together a proper sentence with Mello attempting to mutilate your neck. I had the strangest urge to moan, which was stupid because I was straight. For fuck's sake I'd just screwed a girl and obviously Mello knew it! And sure Mello was admittedly mind-numbingly sexy, and sorta, kinda looked like a chick, but that didn't make him any less male.

In response he just bit at another spot, sucking on the skin there in a manner that made my legs feel like jello. "Or a chocolate bar. It feels like you're trying to eat me Mel and I'll have you know I'm not technically edible." I managed a slight laugh, pushing weakly at his chest again though my head tilted just a bit more to the side impulsively.

"Remember, Matty, when you said you'd do anything for me?" His tone was practically a purr, sending shudders down my spine. I remembered clear enough, but I'd been just at the stage where these sort of things just sorta lingered at the very edge of my mind. Definitely not expecting those words to mean it was okay for Mello to molest me out of the blue. I allowed my brow to furrow slightly, nodding my head while still pushing at his chest. His own head lifted, and I noted that Mello's eyes were bright, more so then usual, a predatory smirk on his lips. I swallowed, finding my mouth suddenly dry.

His fingers curled impossibly tighter over my hips, thumbs teasing over the jut of the bone on either side. I bit sharply into my lip, feeling my face heat up instantly in reaction, hips quivering just slightly. For the moment he said no more, just watching me as I struggled against his touch.

"Not gay." I grit out, my voice cracking slightly. I blamed his own hips, now pressed flush against mine, praying that was only his gun I was feeling. His...metal gun that was.

"Neither am I." He responded nonchalantly, all the while licking a path down my jaw and sending more helpless shivers through me.

"Are you gender confused then?"

"Fuck no." One of his hands crept away from my hip and I tensed again. "I know you're male." That said, his straying hand paused, gripping tightly at the front of my jeans. I choked, caught between a moan of pleasure, and a cry of pain. Then again, that's just how it was with Mello. You couldn't get one without the other. Though this was not the kind of pleasure I'd been seeking through his company.

"I-I was rather wondering about you." This got me a growled round of profanity, along with another squeeze, this time actually getting me to cry out slightly. Damn. "M-Mello." I groaned, shoving at his chest again. His hands only moved up to grasp at my wrists, yanking my arms up and holding them against the cabinet above by my hands with one hand of his own. I cursed again, jerking my hips forward to try and shove him away, only getting him to shove his hips right back.

"You said you'd do anything." He reminded, teeth digging into my throat again and I gasped sharply. "I'm just staking my claim. Chick was stupid to think she could really have you. And fuckin' face it Matt, you know as well as I do you want this. Sex is a great stress reliever. Fuckin' help me here. Let me have this, have you." There must have been something extra in my cigarettes, because I knew those words shouldn't sound so... tempting. Maybe I needed to lay off on the games a bit, they were clearly popping some brain cells.

I froze, his eyes boring into mine, still bright, still angry, still...hurting? Oooh, angst-y Mello. Why didn't we all just decide to fuck Matt to solve our problems? It seemed like a pretty good idea after all. And this bullshit about claiming me? Did he really have to fuck me to do that? I mean I already did every last fucking thing he asked of me. Some snarky comment rose in my throat, but I couldn't seem to force it out. Nor was it in me to shove him off, and he seemed to know it. His smirk grew, practically baring his teeth, one knee nudging between my legs. I had to squirm again at this, but his free hand pushed against my stomach, working at the button to my jeans. "You'll like it." He breathed as his lips brushed my ear, biting down on it and tugging slightly, drawing another half moan, half whine from me. I hadn't known how sensitive ears could be...but damn. "You're mine Matt, remember that."

Again I wasn't given a chance to respond before Mello acted of his own accord. Honestly I was surprised by the quickness of it. Out of nowhere I was half bent over the kitchen table we never used, instead of pressed up against the counter as I had been before. I blinked, trying to peer over my shoulder at Mello. No dice. But within seconds I did feel his hips pressed up against my butt in a none too subtle manner, and my fingers clenched at the edge of the table.

Shit. I was about to lose the technical other half of my virginity over a kitchen table to my sexy as hell supposed best friend who just happened to look like he belonged more on bottom then I ever did...so much for being straight.

That wasn't even my top concern at the moment. Actually, I was rather focused on what exactly I could feel pressing against me through mine and Mello's pants, and I caught my lower lip between my teeth in worry. My real top concern?

Would it even frickin' fit?

_

As it turned out, it did fit. And not just once, but about a thousand times after. (I'd like to thank Mello here for stealing my straight, really.)

Although it had been sometime since the first sex encounter with Mello, the after pains never seemed to end. This wasn't a complaint, because I knew good and well it was my fault. I was the one who went back to him not days after that first time, and I was the one who kept coming back each time. I encouraged his insatiable sex drive and gave into his every whim and kink. None of it was really on Mello. I was the one who just couldn't let go.

Those heated, impassioned times were comparative to video games, and there was no better comparison than that. You see, just like it was impossible to just beat one level at one time, it was impossible to just have sex with Mello once. There was just something about that first time that unhooked some part of me that had somehow gotten locked away. I wasn't sure exactly what it was so-

Oh who was I kidding? I knew exactly what was the frickin' problem here. The very reason I'd never once resisted Mello when he came to me with the intent of fucking me senseless. The same reason I'd started going to him, slutting myself out over him just to get his attentions to me and my apparent sex appeal. Exactly why I now got a serious case of the rabid-bat-instead-of-butterfly-gut syndrome every time I was around him outside of sex.

To put it bluntly, and in a less embarrassing manner for me, I was...addicted to Mello. Just as much, if not more, than my games or even my nicotine. I craved his touch like no other, no matter how much. His smile, or smirk even, seemed to have changed since that first encounter, and if his presence had been slightly intoxicating before...

Let's just say I had a case of puppy-love, awakened by the intimacy that came along with our frequent sex.

I'd already considered that maybe it was an addiction to sex, and not the blonde himself. But as many times I'd tried to convince myself, and trust me it had been many times, I'd never been much good at lying when it came to me personally. Denial maybe, but this was a whole different level of things. You couldn't deny feelings for a guy when he was pounding you into a mattress, and various other places, every other night.

Screw puppy love. I was completely in fucking love with the sex god that was Mello.

I'm serious too. I mean, I'd already considered all the possibilities. Like, maybe it was an addiction to sex, and not the blonde himself. But as many times I'd tried to convince myself, and trust me it had been many times, I'd never been much good at lying when it came to me personally. Denial maybe, but this was a whole different level of things. You couldn't deny feelings for a guy when he was pounding you into a mattress, and various other places, every other night.

Silly, socially-retarded me seemed to think it was a good idea to inform Mello of this new development as well. Really, he was the one who approached me first. The one who got jealous over that fling with the chick who's name I can't even remember now. He was possessive and I could only assume that meant he really wanted me. At least, it sure as hell seemed like it.

So, still panting and sweaty from our sex from just moments before, I wriggled under Mello until I managed to roll over onto my back, leaving Mello to slump against my chest. My fingers threaded into his soft, slightly damp blond hair, a cigarette already at my lips due to the fact that I'd learned to keep them within reach in order to have a completely necessary post-sex smoke. As the nicotine wormed its way into my system, I slowly stuck a string of words together in my head, wanting it to come out just right. Love confessions weren't really stuttered, right? I didn't want to sound like a total geek while telling him.

I was pretty sure saying something like "You are the Link to my Zelda," wouldn't actually be taken kindly, let alone understood. Mello really needed some games in his life...

Casting the thought aside for now, I took a deep breath of real air, slipping my arms around Mello so he wouldn't try to get away or something. His eyes cracked open lazily, peering at me with something akin to curiosity while raising one pale brow. "Know what Mels?"

"What Matt?" He asked, and it sort of came out as a sigh as he shifted a bit on top of me, letting his eyes fall closed again. I found myself hesitating once more, before I pecked at his lips, letting my fingers trail idle patterns on his back.

"I, uhm ,I think I love you, Mello." That kind of seemed anticlimactic after how much time I'd spent thinking about it. Guess it would have to do though, since I'd said it and all. I bit my lip, watching Mello who had yet to move. I supposed worry was due, so I prodded him lightly at the small of his back.

I think maybe I should have been offended that it was that action that seemed to wake him up as opposed to my confession.

At least...I would have been offended if Mello hadn't shot up like a frickin' bullet, jerking me up by the strap of my goggles still hanging loosely around my neck. His eyes were icy all over again, the post-sex haze deserting them completely and leaving only a look that had goosebumps crawling over my skin all over again. He scowled at me in a manner he never had before, and I could swear there was something close to disgust in that expression.

Okay...ouch.

And I don't mean the fact that just seconds later his fist had collided with my jaw, though that was certainly painful as well. "What the fuck are you goin' on about Matt? I fuckin' told you, sex is a way to relieve tension. That's it. Why you thought I'd ever love your lazy ass..." He trailed off, shaking his head and making a prominent scoffing noise, though the anger around him never lessened. "Just never say that shit again, and we'll be good, alright?" I didn't even get out anything more than a surprised stutter before Mello was out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and then the bathroom door after that as he entered. Probably to shower. He always showered after sex, sometimes dragging me with him, sometimes not.

Apparently this was one of those times where it was a not.

My heart clenched in a painful fashion as I brushed my fingers along my now tender jaw, and for the first time in a while I felt hot tears spilling down my cheeks. It was a scary thought to think that I might lose Mello entirely over those stupid little words, but it was one that just wouldn't leave me alone. Dammit! Why did things have to turn against me like that? I mean...we had sex on a near daily frickin basis! Excuse me for thinking that maybe the feeling was mutual.

Guess fuckin' not.

I groaned to myself, clutching the pillow beside me on the bed to my chest, burying my face in it even if my face kind of hurt. My heart hurt too. Honestly I'd never thought that the term having your heart broken could be taken literally. Until now anyway, considering my heart certainly felt as if it'd been ripped down the center.

How come no one ever told you the feeling of a broken heart included a sore ass?

I got over it, 'course I did. Months passed, things went back to normal, like I'd never said anything. Mello still fucked me, I still went to him for sex when he didn't come to me first. Still went along with his every order with the exception of his 'never say it again' rule. It was probably the only one ever that I ignored, because I just couldn't stop myself from telling him I loved him each and every time I hit my climax with him. Thankfully, I never had to suffer another hit from him for saying it but I didn't exactly get an 'I love you too' either. And, y'know, I was okay. I figure if you really love someone, you should be able to be happy to just be with them, right?

The thought alone caused me to roll my eyes, wondering when I'd gotten so sappy, only to remember that I'd always been like that and it was a right shame my romantic ideals were never to be fulfilled. It was then had to force myself to focus on what I had been before. That being, well, my own reflection. No, I wasn't preening thank you. Instead my eyes raked over my chest, pale, lean, bruised...That right there was exactly what started my thinking on how I was kind of a whore. A pretty fail whore maybe, what with one client who didn't technically pay me and was supposed to be my best friend.

It wasn't like I was actually a prostitute though, my survival didn't depend on making money off random perverts who couldn't get a lay themselves. I mean, I could reject Mello at any moment, could stop slutting myself out to him. I didn't have to deal with this crap, we could go back to having our normal, non sexual friendship and he could go fuck some other guy...

Not the point I suppose. It was really ruining my attempt at angst.

Not that I really had any reason to angst. My fingers prodded at one bruise in particular, right over my collar bone, a hickey no less. Half of them were really. The rest were just the results of Mello's apparent lack of knowledge towards the concept of gentle. Looking at each mark now, I was reminded how things worked with Mello.

It would be laughable to compare the sex we had to 'making love'. Hell, it would be laughable to call it sex. It was, as Mello called it, a hard, hot, fuck. There were no kisses, no playful foreplay. I was lucky if I got a proper preparation, or got off at all myself seeing as Mello had a thing for being blown. It was the rough edge that made it intense, invigorating, what seemed to make it Mello. There was just something so...fulfilling about being able to bring Mello to his peaks, and to be brought to highs most people never dared reach in return. It was both a pleasure, and a pain, as usual when it came to my blond companion.

Still, as I continued to stare blankly at myself, I felt long buried insecurities welling up again, mingling with my usually positive thoughts and crashing every normal thought train.

Slut, bitch, whore, cumbucket...

Mello might have been some kind of sex god, but he still retained every bit of human cruelty. Harsh words to go with harsh touches, leaving directly after every last time, it twisted my insides in ways I hadn't even known they could be twisted. I'd admit it bothered me that he could effect me so, but it was these very human feelings that had me clinging to Mello all the more. Well, that and the long admitted fact that I was in love with him and sorta doomed to the fate of staying that way.

Not that I minded. Like I said, it was all worth it 'cause I got to be with Mello. And I got to be intimate with Mello. I knew perfectly well I wasn't the only one granted the privilege, but I also knew I was the only one he ever came back to.

Even if it really meant I was little more than another of his sex toys.

Albeit, a perfectly willing toy, but one no less. I must have gone through every one of his various kinks over the short months, had more sex in the time span than I was sure should have been possible in a lifetime. The slight pang that shot up my spine when I went to exit the bathroom reminded me of that.

Of course, it went ignored. I was on a rather important search for chocolate sauce, I loved it when we used that stuff. Sure it was sticky and smelled nauseating in excess, but it brought Mello's mouth and...fuck, maybe I was addicted to the sex. Then again, how could I not have been? It was so incredibly easy for me to get attached to things that may have not appeared outwardly good for me, but helped me keep myself together in their own subtle ways. Addictions were just a part of life.

Just as I kicked the fridge shut, having given up on my chocolate search, I heard the slam of the front door. Instantly my heart lurched, and an impulsive smile tugged at my lips. Mello had been gone for a few days now, and naturally I'd missed him like no other. I always hated his longer absences, I was left to think too much while he was gone. Video games could only do so much...

Sex could do a lot more. I wanted that mindless, blissful state it brought me to, I wanted Mello.

"Mels!"I chirped excitedly, doing my usual slide across the floor until I could loop my arms with one of his own, molding myself against his side. I caught an eye roll, before he reached to ruffle my hair, shoving me away after.

"Down boy," And it was one of those days where that was about the extent of our conversation, as I hadn't any time to think of a response before Mello's lips were crushed on to my own.

See...pretty much we had three types of days. Type A was the sort of day I liked the most. Where Mello and I fell back into our old easy friendship, and we'd laugh together and talk together. As the weeks passed, there was a definite decline in the amount of type A days there were out of the few days he was actually at home.

Type B was probably second best. The type of day where I could almost feel like we were an actual couple. There was always a lot of kissing, and a lot of exploring of each other's bodies instead of jumping straight to the actual sex. Not to mention, the next day I could actually walk fairly normally instead of in a, like, awkward cowboy type fashion that never ceased to amuse Mello.

And then there was type C...the sort of day that today was, clearly. The way Mello's fingers gripped at my hips as he guided me to the nearest wall in order to shove me against it was enough to tell me as much. If not, then surely the way his teeth dug into my lower lip hard enough to draw blood was certainly another cue.

I tend to bleed a lot on the type C days. Just sayin'.

I wouldn't ever protest. Not because I didn't think it would matter (though sometimes I did kind wonder), but because this was what Mello wanted. Mello always got what he wanted when it came to me. I was willing to give, y'know? And the sex wasn't all that bad. Really, I got an odd enjoyment out of it, finding it just as intoxicating as the sex we shared on the type B days.

Because it was Mello. And if I had to linger on the brink of masochistic to be with him, so be it.

It was worth it, always worth it.

"Ahn, Mello!" I groaned out as his nails raked over my chest, not bothering to wonder where my shirt had suddenly disappeared to. His teeth were still viciously at work on my neck, drawing further groans and gasps. Noises that seemed to amuse Mello, as he chuckled, digging his nails harder into my skin as he trailed them up, and then back down my sides. His knee pressed roughly between my legs, hard enough that it was just bordering on the edge of pain, and I couldn't help but release a whimper.

"What's wrong Matt?" The blond taunted, lips hovering above mine for only a moment before they were completely covering them again, biting roughly at the already abused flesh. I felt warm trails slipping slowly over my chin, heading down to join the small droplets of blood that had gathered across my chest from Mello's nails. Even while he was doing this though, I'd found the anger lingering at the edge of his voice impossible to ignore. Not anger for me, I knew that. But for some other bastard. Probably Near or Kira. I briefly thought over why it wasn't them that wasn't enduring this sadistic edge to Mello. Emphasis on briefly because I shook the thought off as I was reminded that I didn't actually want anyone to have this but me. Just like I didn't want anyone to do this but Mello. Because Mello, and Mello alone could bring me to such a level that the blooming pain turned into pure ecstasy. "Finally decide you can't take it?"

It seemed shaking my head was a stupid decision, as his teeth only tore at my lip more with the action. I hissed lightly, recoiling a bit, getting another chuckle from Mello. His tongue lapped at the blood that was pooling on my lip, both soothing the torn skin and causing it to smart more. I moaned at the combination of that feeling and the feeling of his knee pressing up harder against my crotch, not quite sure myself whether it was a noise of pain or pleasure. Mello seemed to take it as the latter, as he gave up on ravishing my lips in order to purr "slut" into my ear, before letting his teeth catch sharply on the lobe, forcing me to gasp sharply. This was taken as the perfect opportunity to not only resume our kiss, but shove his tongue in my mouth. This I was okay with, urging another few pleasured gasps to escape me. It didn't seem like he liked that, as it wasn't very long before he decided to do something nasty again. This time in the form of biting down hard on my tongue.

Spots darted in front of my vision as his knee dug harsher against me at the same moment I felt blood from the bite welling in my mouth, and I whimpered again, clutching at Mello's forearms. I was panting already, chest heaving yet the blond himself seemed unfazed, if only a bit more eager with his current ministrations. It was only when he bit sharply into one of my very sensitive nipples and got an actual cry out of me that he seemed to grow bored with the...teasing.

In a surprising, and painfully, fast movement, he had me spun around so I was facing the wall, my head knocking none too gently against the hard plaster. My vision blurred a moment, nausea turning in my stomach briefly, the taste of blood heavy on my tongue not really helping. Somehow, I managed to focus more on how Mello was dragging my pants down around my ankles, how his own breaths seemed to have gotten heavier, if only a bit. How amazingly gratifying it was to fell his leather-clad erection grinding against me.

Because I did that to Mello. And those little things I could do to him were enough to compensate for the fact that I really couldn't love him like I wanted.

"Mello." I puffed when I felt his fingers on my ass, knowing I really shouldn't tense up 'cause that would just make it hurt a lot more. But tense up I did, at the very moment Mello went and shoved two barely slick fingers inside of me.

I cried out again. And again it was hard to tell whether it was of pleasure or pain. My body couldn't even tell me anymore. The trembling that had taken over could have been either. The soft whimpers and gasps were hard to decipher all the same. I bit into my already abused lip, encouraging a few more droplets of blood to slip out and join the rest. My eyes squeezed tightly shut as he began to move his fingers, quick and hard, with no regard to whether it actually was hurting me or not.

There wasn't very much time wasted on that. It could barely be considered a few moments before he withdrew his fingers, placing something much larger at my entrance in their place. My trembling increased, and I released another whine of what could have been longing, my fingers clenching at the wall as if hoping to find something to clutch on to. His own fingers curled at my hip, nails digging into the skin hard enough to draw blood, while his lips teased at the side of my neck, his hair brushing over my shoulders.

"You're really fuckin' hard, Matt, you know that? Just how badly do you want me?" His teeth dug into the back of my neck, dragging along the skin lightly for his standards, while his hand still clawed mercilessly at my hip. "Pretty badly, huh? 'Cause you fuckin' love me, right?" As spoke, he seemed to grow irritated with prolonging it further, as the tip of his erection pressed into me. Already that was painful, and I could only imagine what the whole thing would feel like.

I shuddered.

Because dammit, I really was a fucking masochist, huh?

"Sure it isn't just my dick you love, bitch?" He growled harshly as he pushed into me with one careful thrust. Or not so careful rather, as it hurt like fucking hell. By now I was far from ashamed to let out a scream, only muffling it somewhat by biting into my lip again, clawing at the wall I was using for support. I couldn't find my voice to protest to Mello's words. Wasn't sure a protest would be taken kindly to begin with.

It was like when he would vent at Whammy's. I wasn't supposed to interrupt until he was done save for the occasional 'uh-huh' and 'well that fuckin' bites Mels'. Only now he was venting through sex and violence, and all I'd be able to get out during it was the noises he drew out of me. Which was just as well because I really doubted I could speak.

Mello didn't waste any time to pull out, and thrust back into me again, sending another jolt of pain to rip throughout my body. It didn't take a genius to tell that the warm, wet feeling was due to the blood that now seemed to be welling up inside of me just as it had my mouth. The thought didn't bother me as much as I knew it should have, maybe because I didn't feel like I had much say in the manner, maybe because the now steady rhythm of Mello's thrusts was mixing pleasure with the pain.

Or it coulda just been my recently discovered masochistic side doing that. Who knew?

What I did know was that no one but Mello could do this to me. Send me so high I could barely feel myself anymore. The line between pleasure and pain had been blurred so badly I couldn't tell one from the other. If he didn't have a firm hold on me, if I wasn't pressed hard against the wall, there was no doubt I would have slipped to the floor because my legs sure as hell weren't going to work at the moment. I was quivering all over, and moaning and gasping and fuckin' screaming for Mello. Any normal person would have been screaming for him to stop, but I guess I'd never really been a normalperson, had I?

No. Being me I could only scream for him to continue. Practically sobbing from the mix of pure bliss and undeniable pain as Mello only thrust harder, faster, while his nails raked across my chest again, leaving long bloody trails. His only noises were softly growled curses and the occasional pleased groan, otherwise muffled by digging his teeth into my neck, my back, my shoulder...

It was over to soon. One well placed thrust right into the spot inside every guy that made gay sex worth it threw me over the edge. Without even having to be really touched, I came, hard. My body trembled even more violently, muscles tightening all over as I released a final scream of Mello's name. I didn't have to wait too long, slumped against the wall, for Mello to reach his peak as well, the only warning being a particularly hard bite against the nape of my neck, muffling a groan of what I could have sworn was my own name.

Then again, I'd been known to have an active imagination.

It felt like forever, panting and sweaty and exhausted, before Mello pulled off me, dragging me to a proper standing position by my abused hips. For a second, he stared hard at me, and I wondered what he saw. Well...I knew he must have seen a scrawny, bloody, disheveled, sexed-up redhead, but by the way he was scrutinizing it was hard not to imagine something else was there.

Something that was supposed to be there, and I knew wouldn't ever be because Mello was Mello. Plain and simple.

So, per my usual, I just kinda smiled at him, shaking my head and murmuring a simple "Love ya, Mels." And per his usual, he didn't so much as respond to that statement, reaching out to tug at a lock of my hair and shaking his own head.

"Clean that up, would ya Matt? I'm fuckin' exhausted." Was all he said with a gesture towards the wall I'd previously been supported against. "Clean yourself up while you're at it. You look like a real fuckin' whore." His eyes traveled over me again, before he shrugged and turned to head into his room.

I stared after him for I don't know how long. Part of me kind of feeling like he'd come out, and hold me close like he used to whenever I had a nightmare or something when we were younger. He would give me a real kiss for once, and that would be all I would need to know that he loved me too.

The thoughts were damn depressing, because I knew good and well they were never going to come true. It was the feeling of depression that crept on me that made me drag on my pants even if movement hurt like hell, curling in the chair by the window and lighting a smoke with shaking fingers. My only method of fighting off the poison Mello constantly injected into my system.

Like fuckin' heroine, that's what he was. Tempting, intoxicating, deadly, addictive...only the high you got off him and the crash you got after was totally different from that of a common drug.

Only assuming here, of course.

The smoke burned my lungs, alerting me that I'd been holding it in too long. I let it loose in a heavy sigh, tilting my head back to look at the bathroom door as I heard the shower start. I stared a few seconds, before sighing again and turning to take another drag from the cancer-stick clutched between my forefinger and thumb.

Fuck...

My arms curled around my knees as I drew them to my chest, drawing a sick comfort in the pain that the action brought because it was Mello that put it there. Mello that was behind the ache in my chest. Mello who had started every damn one of my addictions. Mello who was so fucking furstrating yet no matter what I did I couldn't bring myself to hate him for what he was doing to me.

To defy him.

Even if every time I felt myself getting pushed closer to the edge. What edge that exactly was, I wouldn't know, and I never planned to. I'd gone this long after all, I could go far longer.

For Mello.

Always fucking Mello.

Yet I couldn't really blame him. Unless you could blame someone for being themselves I mean. I don't think that actually worked, so there was no blame to be placed on me.

I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped me as I thought about how he damn near owned my soul. He owned everything else, mind, body, heart...why not? Maybe he'd trade it for his own heart, hah! I closed closed my eyes as I imagined the little exchange, a morbidly amused smile curving painfully at my lips.

Never gonna happen, I know.

I was never going to have Mello. No one could really have Mello, and it seemed I wasn't any more special than anyone else. It would be to make someone like him, so dead set on his goals and being the best, always the best, love. Sure Mello was an emotional person, but those emotions came fast and harsh. Anger, depression, determination, frustration, satisfaction, pride. All furious ambition. No time for regrets, or guilt, or sorrow. Let alone love. It just wasn't Mello. Not Mello now anyway.

And on top of that, it was downright stupid to even think someone like Mello could be owned the way someone like me could.

The way he owned me. Completely. Forever and for fucking always.
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